Page 53 of The Secret of Flirting
An idea occurred to her, and she whirled on him. “You said you want me. Well, you can have me.” Though his expression grew stormy, she persisted. She’d been on the verge of having to take a protector in Dieppe—how was this any different?
Besides, she was attracted to Gregory, which was more than she could say for any of her admirers at home. “Just let the masquerade play out. I swear to you that there is nothing wicked about it. And if it turns out that it does involve marriage to Prince Leopold or anything like that, I will confess the truth myself, even if you and I have already—”
“Shared a bed?” he roared. “What kind of monster do you take me for? I would never accept such a bargain. You may not believe this, but Iama gentleman. Not to mention, I am perfectly capable of wooing a woman into my bed without forcing her there.” Eyes glittering like the hardest of diamonds, he stepped up close. “If ever I make love to you, it will be a mutual decision, not some form of blackmail.”
“It... it’s not blackmail. It’s quid pro quo.”
His harsh laugh cut through her. “What the devil do you know about ‘quid pro quo’? You’re an actress.”
She tipped up her chin. “One of my admirers is a lawyer.”
“One of your admirersat the theater,” he prodded.
A frustrated breath rushed out of her. “Yes, yes! Of course I am Monique Servais.” She swallowed. “Though I can’t believe you recognized me after three years, despite all the makeup and clothes and wig—”
“Sorry, my sweet,” he said. “You could cover yourself in mud, and I would still recognizeyou.”
The heat flaring in his gaze gave her hope. “Then why won’t you just—”
“I told you.” He lifted a hand to brush something from her cheek, and only then did she realize she was crying. His voice roughened. “I don’t believe in hurting women. Forcing you to my bed would be tantamount to rape, and thus vastly unsatisfying for both of us, trust me.”
Rape.The hard word jangled in her ears. “Not if I chose to be there.”
“An act done in desperation is not a choice. And while I might back you into a corner to get the truth out of you, when it comes to warming my bed, I only want what’s freely given.”
He trailed his hand down her cheek, gathering tears as he went. “So you have only one recourse. Tell me the truth. Tell me why this is so important that you would offer your body to secure it. Then perhaps together we can figure out a solution that won’t require scandalizing the world and ruining your future.”
The slender offer of other alternatives, coupled with the kindness in his words, so took her by surprise that her defenses crumbled. She caught his hand and turned it to kiss the palm. Then, as she wondered where to begin, she pulled away to go roam the path laid out by his mother’s chalked design.
“Does it have anything to do with your grandmother?” he asked.
That startled her. “How did you—”
“I overheard you speaking of her three years ago. And then just now, you were talking about—”
“Yes,” she said bitterly. “Apparently, I am not quite as good an actress as I thought I was.”
“You’re magnificent,” he said fiercely, surprising her yet again.
“Even though I’m acomicactress?” she retorted.
He looked chagrined. “I should not have said what I did that night. To be honest, I was perturbed to find myself so attracted to a provincial French actress.” He ventured a smile. “Especially one who had managed to impress me with her talent, yet professed herself annoyed at the prospect of meeting me. But trust me, I knew from the moment I saw you on the stage that you were extraordinary.”
She snorted. “If I were so extraordinary, I would have been better in my role as Princess Aurore, and you wouldn’t have guessed my identity the first time you saw me.”
“It wasn’t a lack of acting ability that handicapped you, my sweet. Because you were not actually on the stage. I suspect that when you’re being yourself you’re probably honest. And lying about oneself is vastly different from playing a role in the theater.”
Therein lay the rub, to paraphrase Shakespeare. On the stage, she was aware that everyoneknewshe was playing a role. She had permission, as it were, to lie egregiously. To inhabit the character, to be wholly someone else.
But in life...
She didn’t particularly like lying about being a princess to people who didn’t realize they were watching a play.
“Your grandmother,” he prodded. “She’s the reason you’re doing this. Why, exactly?”
Monique sighed. He was not going to let this go. “My grandmother is... ill. She’s not in her right mind anymore, hasn’t been for some time. Because of our connection to the Chanay royal family—”
“Wait,” he interrupted, “you truly have a connection to them?”
